


The Beast Is My Burden

by coppersunshine (Saeirin)



Category: Leverage
Genre: Multi, Post-Canon, Vaguely Scientifically Plausible Vampirism, vampire!Eliot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2018-12-25 23:02:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12046131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saeirin/pseuds/coppersunshine
Summary: When Eliot gets bitten by a vampire, his instinct is to keep it to himself. Parker and Hardison have other ideas, and soon Leverage is embroiled in a world of mad science and vampire overlords.





	1. Ch. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ch. 1 is mostly overlap with "He's Obviously A Vampire" with only some minor changes, so if you don't want to reread skip ahead to Ch. 2.

Parker knew something was wrong, really wrong, when Eliot stopped eating. He still cooked, at least--it would have been catastrophically bad if Eliot ever stopped cooking--but he no longer ate. Pushed his meal around his plate at dinner, though Eliot always insisted on their finishing their plates--respect the food, he growled. Didn’t even taste it while he cooked, relying only on his own knowledge to tell if the spices were right or wrong. She knew because she watched him. She always watched her boyfriends, careful, studying. People were hard, and she wanted to get this right. So when Eliot got--weird, or weird for Eliot, at any rate--she noticed. 

She didn’t say anything. Eliot always clammed up at personal questions, and she knew if he wanted them to know he would have told them. She kept an eye on him though, surreptitiously checking to see if whatever was wrong had spread to the rest of Eliot. 

The changes were obvious once she started looking. He didn’t sit in his usual chair during their briefing, grumbling about the sunlight hurting his eyes, and lurked in the shadowiest corner of the room, When Hardison bitched at Eliot to stop his pacing, he sat down in the chair furthest from the window. 

His food was different too, apart from his not eating it. It wasn’t that it didn’t taste good, or right--even without tasting his food Eliot was a miracle in the kitchen--but what he made changed. Hardison asked for spaghetti and Eliot bitched about that, growled his scorn of the dish when Parker knew spaghetti was one of Eliot’s favorite meals to make. 

There were little things too, how he started to always wear a hood up outside, or squinted a little too much in the sunlight, and the way that his fighting somehow got better, impossibly, quicker and more perfect. He stopped letting her pester him when he shaved (“Sometimes a man needs his privacy, Parker”) and when he came out of the bathroom there were little unshaven patches for no reason Parker could surmise. He shied away from her touch too, just a little before he made himself relax--or at any rate, give the appearance of relaxing. 

So Parker worried and observed, and then she asked Hardison. 

“Do you know what’s wrong with Eliot?”

“You noticed too, huh?”

“He stopped eating,” she answered simply. 

He sighed. “I dunno, babe. Give him time, maybe he’ll tell us.”

So she kept watching, and waiting, and almost couldn’t bear it. Eliot had always been Eliot, and now he was not-Eliot pretending to still be Eliot--which proved him to be Eliot in the most Eliot way possible, because Eliot would always protect them, even if she’d rather know the truth. When the panic overwhelmed her she called Sophie. 

“Parker? Parker, it’s 4 in the morning!”

“Eliot stopped eating.”

“Eliot stopped eating?”

“He won’t even taste his food when he cooks!” Her voice choked. 

“Okay, Parker, deep breaths. I’m sure there’s some explanation for this, okay?”

Parker exhaled long and slow. 

“Good. Take deep breaths, and when you can, tell me everything.”

She breathed, and felt her heart settle for all she was still strung-out and anxious. 

“He stopped eating. He wouldn’t make spaghetti, and he squints too much in sunlight and grimaces, and he wears hoodies up all the time now, and he doesn’t like touching me anymore and his shaving is weird and his fighting changed. Got better somehow. Hardison says we should give him some time, but I can just feel that something is wrong, really wrong--”

“Parker, breathe, all right? Ignore Hardison. He means well, but if Eliot doesn’t want to tell you something, he isn’t going to tell you unless you ask him. Just be straightforward about it. Now, go get some sleep, okay?”

“Okay.”

She didn’t sleep though, didn’t return to their bed, just huddled on the kitchen floor breathing her fear deep and slow until Eliot, the early riser, came out of the bedroom an hour later. 

“Parker? Why are you up so early?” He knelt on the floor. “What’s wrong?”

She laughed, sharp and bitter. “That’s what I’m supposed to ask you!”

“Hey, come here,” he said, and she crawled to him, clinging to him, letting his presence ground her. 

“You stopped eating,” she said, and it was an accusation. 

He sighed, and kissed her hair. “Is that what this is?”

“Eliot, you stopped eating.”

“I know, darling, I know. And I’m gonna tell you, okay? Just not now. I can’t.

“No, Eliot, now,” and her voice was pain.

“Parker,” he sighed. “This ain’t something that I can tell you easy. I’m not sure of it myself. But I promise I’m fine, darling. You’ve been watching me, right? Do I look sick to you?”

“No,” she whispered. 

“This ain’t a threat to you or Hardison, and it ain’t a threat to us. I’m not going anywhere. Come back to bed, okay?”

“Only if you come too.”

He scooped her up in his arms and carried her into the bedroom, laying down beside her and holding her until her ragged breathing calmed and she slowly fell asleep, nestled against Hardison. 

 

Breakfast was made the next morning as always, her and Hardison waking to kitchen smells and kitchen noise. Eliot had strident objections to gummy frogs and fortune cookies for breakfast. It almost felt normal again, until Eliot sat their plates before them with no pretense of making one for himself. Parker gave him a look, and he shrugged. “No point in wasting food.” 

They didn’t have any job they were on, and pretty soon after breakfast Eliot made excuses for some errand he needed to run and disappeared. 

“He doesn’t want to tell us.”

Hardison gave a wry grin. “Since when has Eliot ever wanted to tell us anything important?”

“Sophie said I should just ask him outright, that he’d never tell us on his own, but he still wouldn’t tell me. So I guess we’ll just have to figure it out ourselves. Consider this a briefing.”

“Whoa, okay, babe. Aren’t I supposed to run those?”

“Hmm.” Her eyes narrowed. “Yes, well you don’t have all the evidence yet. Now listen!”

She shoved Hardison onto the couch and dragged their whiteboard over. 

“So far I see only one possible solution.” She wrote a word big on the board and circled it. “Vampires.”

“You think Eliot’s a vampire?”

“It’s the only explanation.” She started ticking off evidence on her fingers. “One, he stopped eating. Two and three, he doesn’t like sunlight and wears a hood up all the time now. Four, he wouldn’t make spaghetti; five, he had patchy spots after he shaved; and six, he stiffens when I touch him. Seven; his fighting got better. Faster.” 

“Come on, how does-- does spaghetti and shaving have anything to do with him being a vampire?”

“Spaghetti has garlic. Everyone knows vampires hate garlic. And he couldn’t shave very well if he couldn’t look in the mirror, could he, hmm?”

“You’ve thought about this a lot, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, because I’m worried. And Sophie told me it’s important to pay attention to my emotions. I don’t know why you’re not worried.”

“Parker, I am worried. But I trust Eliot. I know he can take care of himself, and ourselves, and--and two dozen puppies in a dust storm if he wanted to! He’ll tell us when he’s ready to.”

“Well, then why wouldn’t he tell me last night?” 

“Probably because he’s not ready yet! How long has it been since he stopped eating?”

“Three days.”

“See, that’s nothing. Eliot’s probably used to not eating that long, off getting chased through the jungle by crazy terrorists or some such. Give him at least a week, okay? Eliot’s gone for the day, so how ‘bout we just have some fun on our own, whatever you want.”

“I guess. There was this one building I wanted to jump off…”

Alec groaned. “I walked right into that, didn’t I?”

 

Jumping off of only one building wasn’t enough to calm Parker’s nerves, while Alec’s nerves couldn’t handle more than the one, and he excused himself as soon as she suggested a rooftop tour of the city, mentioning some work he wanted to do for the client meeting tomorrow. Parker knew better, but she didn’t say anything, just kissed him before dropping him back off at the offices and careening off through the mid-day traffic. 

To be fair, he did work some on the job, digging a little deeper into the financials before giving it up and settling in to spend some time seeing what was new on the internet since his adrenaline-fueled absence. He was just starting his fourth, blissedly calm cat video when Eliot came in, kicking off his boots and flinging a coat onto the chair before heading to the kitchen--not typical Eliot behavior; he was the neatest of all of them. Hardison gave him a couple minutes before heading in--Eliot valued control above all, and clearly needed some time to regain it--making sure to scuff his feet enough so Eliot knew he was coming, just in case. 

He sidled into the kitchen (rule one of dealing with upset Eliot: leave all exits available) and leaned up against the counter. “Hey, man, what’s up?”

He was answered only by the slow, precise turning of the pages of a cookbook--Eliot’s first cookbook, the one Toby had given him.

“Look, man, if you don’t want to talk to us that’s okay. But, uh, Parker, she’s real worked up, she’s out flinging herself off every building in the city to feel better, and, well, I kinda thought you were okay telling us things, and it’s fine if you’re not, but I want you to know that you can talk to us, and that...that we’re here for you, whether you like it or not, and, and--”

Eliot spoke with gritted teeth. “I’m fine, Hardison.”

“Aw, man, now that’s just a straight up lie, I thought we were past that. All right, you don’t want to talk, that’s cool. Let me know if you need something, alright?”


	2. Ch. 2

When Hardison left Eliot slumped against the counter. He knew he wasn’t fine, whatever he pretended, and he was doing a damn poor job of hiding it, his body betraying him. He’d always been able to master his body, and now he couldn’t even make himself eat. Food tasted like ash on his tongue. Ever since Toby taught him to feel again, food had been his pathway to emotion, had meant something--even looking at the barest of ingredients, he felt potential. Now the meaning was lost, and the most perfect dish held no more significance to him than a heap of dust. Though the feeling had left him, he could sense its loss, and resented it. Without food, without his art, what was he? Nothing more than a violent criminal, a murderer. But that’s what he’d been all along, wasn’t it? He’d deceived himself to think anything else. 

Whatever they thought, Hardison and Parker couldn’t know. It would destroy them. He would destroy them.

 

At a certain point, enough was enough. Hardison did his best to respect Eliot’s much-valued privacy, but this was threatening the team and their relationship. Eliot might think he was protecting them, but not telling them something as significant as why the hell he’d stopped eating was sure not protection, and most definitely Eliot being a stubborn damn fool. While Hardison certainly didn’t believe that Eliot was a vampire, there was no denying something was up. 

So he did what any hacker and concerned boyfriend would have done: he sat down with his very favorite laptop and called up the data for Eliot’s GPS trackers--one in the wallet, one in each of his cars, one hidden in a bracelet, one sewn into his leather coat, and one in his boots. With a man as paranoid as Eliot Spencer there was no such thing as overkill. 

Sure enough, two were offline, probably found and destroyed, and Eliot hadn’t worn his bracelet, so no good there. The cars, though, were still good--Hardison had gotten better at finding hiding spots--and the one in the boot was also good, and probably the most useful, anyway. 

At first glance there was no real pattern to the data before him, just a mishmashed pile of chaotic pathways and stop-overs. A certain degree of that was to be expected--Eliot was always careful to make sure he wasn’t predictable in his movements--but this was well beyond his usual evasive tactics. 

It took some work to tease out the detours and dead-ends, but he did it, rummaging through the data to find the few locations most likely to have actual significance. Nothing immediately useful, though; just a few abandoned warehouses and back-alleys Eliot had no reason to be. Hardison poked at them, trying to figure out a link--building owners, maybe--but nothing came up.

Hardison had just started tracing shell companies, hoping to find something in the financials, when a hand slammed down the lid on his laptop and made him jump. 

“You shouldn’t be looking at that,” Eliot growled.

“Yeah, and why not?” 

“‘Cause it’s none of your damn business.”

Hardison sighed. “Look, babe, I know you need your secrets, but you’re freaking Parker out. Hell, you’re freaking me out. That makes it my business. So unless you feel like telling us, straight up?”

“I already told Parker. This ain’t a threat to you or her, and it ain’t a threat to us.”

“Yeah. Of course you can’t just tell us. God forbid things be easy. All right, I’mma have to spell this out. I know you think you’re protecting us or something, keeping things from us that you think we can’t handle, but you’re wrong. Not telling us something that is important is a threat. It means you don’t trust us. Parker’s out jumping off every damn building in town to try and settle her nerves about this, right? She’s afraid you’re going to leave us. And maybe you’re right that not knowing what’s going on won’t harm me and Parker physically, but it harms us. It harms our relationship. And Eliot, babe, we don’t need protecting from you, alright, so get that through your thick skull. Whatever this is, we can handle it, together. But that means you have to tell us. You know what Parker’s come up with, trying to figure this out? She thinks you’re a damn vampire!”

Eliot froze. “A vampire?”

“Yeah, mama has a whole list of evidence and everything. I told you, she’s freaked.” 

“Twenty pounds of crazy--” he muttered. 

“Naw, don’t even try that shit. Parker’s trying to make sense of this best she can and she’s not crazy for that. Look, we’re your partners. We love you, El, and ain’t nothing going to change that, no matter what your brain is trying to tell you. I know you’re still afraid we’re going to find out some detail of your crazy past and freak, but we aren’t. I just wish you knew that. Look, if you don’t want to tell us, that’s okay. Just find some way to make it right with Parker, so she knows you’re not leaving.” Alec paused, his eyes flicking down before meeting Eliot’s again. “You’re not, are you, babe? That’s not what this is, that we’re not enough?”

“No. No, never. Never think that, Hardison. You two are the best people I have ever known.”

 

Eliot didn’t say that he wasn’t leaving, though he knew it was implied. Eliot was very careful not to say that, because he was afraid that he might have to, if he couldn’t sort this out. Their safety was non-negotiable, whatever mess he’d gotten himself into. 

He sighed, and kissed Hardison. “I’m going for a walk. Don’t track me.”

The fresh air helped ground him. Eliot hadn’t lost that, at least, even if the dim light from the overcast sky hurt his eyes and made him squint. He pulled his hood up, scowling. The air was cool; he drew it deep into his lungs, letting it remind him he was--alive. Eliot wasn’t sure that was the right word, anymore. If this was what he thought it was. He smiled. Eliot hadn’t expected Parker to figure out what was up, but he should have known she’d be clever enough to work out the facts. He’d have to tell them, soon. Just as soon as he found out how to fix it. 

Which meant he had to grit his teeth and make the call he’d been avoiding. It wasn’t that he thought Quinn would be unhelpful, it’s just that the man could be so damn smug. 

“Quinn, it’s Eliot.”

“Eliot Spencer! Need my valuable assistance on a job again?”

“No. I need you to give me all the information you have on vampires.”

“Oh, wow. Got a little problem out in Portland?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Sure you’re not calling for assistance? I mean, I’m well aware you can handle yourself, Spencer, but I’m the one with a background in sucker fights.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re crazy. What kind of hitter specializes in vampires? Aliens is one thing--hell, demons, even, but vampires? Besides, I’m not fighting them.”

“So you need my highly specialized information on vampiric weaknesses so you can not stake the bastards through the heart? What kind of intel are you looking for?” 

Eliot growled, “Just give me whatever you have, alright?”

“Fine, fine. Sending you the files now. Look, this has been lovely, but it seems like I need to take care of some imminent business. Call if you need me.”

The call clicked off, and moments later file after file appeared on his phone. He had to give it to Quinn--the man was thorough. He had everything from grainy video of sucker fights to a spreadsheet comparing the efficacies of certain types of wood for staking. Most of it was just transcriptions of anecdotal accounts, and probably not especially accurate, but it was better than nothing. It would take time to go through everything. Eliot didn’t know much about vampires, but he figured he was about to. 

Eliot spent maybe another hour walking around, trying to clear his head and figure out what he was going to tell Parker before he headed back to the brewpub. He wasn’t ready for the truth, not yet. Eliot supposed he could try to choke down a meal of dust. He’d eaten worse. Even if it wouldn’t help the edge of hunger that was starting to wear at him. He needed to fix things, soon. Before it got bad.

It was getting late in the afternoon and he needed to head back, even if he still wasn’t sure what to say. Couldn’t let those two try and fix dinner themselves. Just because Eliot couldn’t eat anymore didn’t mean he didn’t know the importance of proper nutrition, and Hardison and Parker never seemed to care no matter how much he pressed it on them. 

Their apartment was uncomfortable when he returned, tension hanging over them all as they quietly attended their tasks; the only noises were the quiet skritching of Parker picking locks, Hardison’s keys tapping, and the occasional bang from Eliot’s pans in the kitchen. 

Eliot knew Hardison was right, that he was hurting them by trying to protect them. He didn’t know what else to do. Maybe he should tell them. If anybody could come up with a cure it’d be Hardison. Eliot didn’t want to admit the truth, though. Didn’t want to have to say it out loud, admit that he hadn’t been careful enough, admit that he had nearly failed to protect them. Admit he wasn’t sure he could protect them from himself. Admit he didn’t have the guts to leave, because if he told them he knew he’d have to. And mostly, he was afraid to admit that he had truly, finally become the inhuman monster Parker and Hardison had spent so long convincing him he wasn’t. 

The smell from his simmering stew made him want to vomit. It had been one of his favorite recipes--lamb and barley, slowly honed to perfection though years of testing--and now he couldn’t even appreciate the smell. It only served to remind him of his lost humanity. 

By the time dinner was finished cooking, Eliot decided to tell them--rip off the bandaid, right? He couldn’t decide if the ache in his stomach was from the stew or his fear of what they’d say, of the revulsion in their eyes. It was better for them to understand what was happening, no matter how much he hated for them to know. Eliot hated it almost as much as his own cowardice. Parker had figured it out, even. It wasn’t fair to pretend she hadn’t.

So Eliot grit his teeth and forced himself to move through the familiar motions of cooking and plating without dragging them out to delay the conversation he knew he had to have. Two beautiful plates of stew, with fresh biscuits and salad--the one Hardison liked, with almonds and oranges. And blueberry pie for dessert. 

“Dinner,” he called, and the other two came and sat at the table--or in Parker’s case, perched. 

“Damn, Eliot,” said Hardison through a mouthful of lamb. “You are a fucking miracle, you know that?”

Parker was busy heaping small mountains of stew onto her biscuits and then shoving them messily into her mouth. Eliot learned long ago that there was no getting Parker to eat normally. She viewed silverware as entirely optional, and as long as she was eating something nutritious he didn’t grouse too much. 

They scarfed their food down, those two, and most days he would have grumbled for them to eat slower and appreciate it, but today Eliot just watched them eating and smiled fondly. When they had nearly finished, Eliot took a deep breath and spoke. “Parker’s right.” Forcing those words from his tongue was as hard as anything he’d done. His heart hammered. 

“What?” asked Hardison.

“You’re a vampire?” said Parker. 

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry,” said Hardison, “did you just say...wow. Okay. Um, when did this happen, El? Shit, when did vampires happen? And more importantly, how did I not know about vampires being real!?”

“I got bit on the last job. Wasn’t careful enough”

Parker hopped over the table and hugged Eliot. “I’m glad you told us.”

“I’m--I’m sorry I didn’t sooner.”

“It’s okay. So do you have cool vampire powers now?”

“Oh man, babe, yeah, that would be so sweet! Please tell me you can turn into bats and fly away! Or smoke! Can you do smoke! That would be so good on the job, hell, you’d get past doors easier than Parker.”

Eliot smiled wanly. “Not that I know of. But I haven’t--eaten--yet, so-”

“Oh, yeah, that’s going to be an issue, isn’t it? I’ll just hack into the hospital blood supply, should be pretty easy to get some for you. Or there’s some places you can get it black market, if you’re comfortable with skeezy black market blood, which, ick. Do you think vampires can get blood-borne illnesses? Man, that would suck.”

“Hah!” Parker barked. They looked at her. “Suck. Like vampires suck.”

Eliot rolled his eyes. 

“Hell yeah, girl!” said Hardison appreciatively. “I mean, El, you could have some of my blood, if you needed it-”

“No! No, I’m not drinking your fucking blood, Hardison. And I’m not stealing it from a hospital, alright? They need that. And I’m not drinking some black market blood we don’t know where it’s been and who was hurt to get it.”

“Well, okay, then what’s your plan for all this?”

“I dunno, alright? I’ll figure it out.”

“You could drink our marks’ blood,” said Parker.

“No, damnit, I’m not going to drink anyone’s blood. I don’t care whose it is.” 

“And how long can you keep that up, huh? Nutrition is important, Eliot.”

“Yeah, thanks, Hardison, I know,” Eliot growled. “A couple weeks, at least.” 

Parker frowned. “No. We are not starving Eliot.”

“What about animal blood?”

“I...fine.” 

“Cool, I can work that.”

“Only while I’m figuring out a solution to all this, though.” 

“Eliot needs his food back,” said Parker. 

“How are you two so fine with this?” Eliot burst out. 

Hardison shrugged. “Man, I see so much weird stuff in this job I just roll with the hits anymore. And Eliot, this is what we do, isn’t it? Work around the impossible?” 

“There’s a difference between working around high-tech security and working around the fact that I’m a blood-sucking, inhuman freak!” Eliot growled. 

“You are not a freak,” said Parker. “Not any more than the rest of us, anyway. And while I never expected to get to plan V, I welcome the challenge.”

“V for vampire? Seriously?”

“No. V for vacuum. Obviously.”

Eliot and Hardison stared at her. 

Hardison shook his head. “Man, what did you expect us to do, El? Recoil in horror and chase you off with garlic and silver to go live a tortured life feasting on the blood of innocents until you finally hated yourself enough to run into a wooden stake?”

Eliot was silent.

Realization dawned. “You did, didn’t you? You really did.”

“To be fair, I would have asked Quinn to do the staking.”

“And that makes it better how? Eliot, hon, sometimes you make me want to bash my head against a wall, and I mean that in the nicest, most romantic possible way. Eliot, we love you. I love you. You are not a monster. Alright?”

Eliot just stared at Hardison levelly. 

“Alright. Good enough. We’ll work on it,” said Hardison. “Now, what’s your angle? What have you been looking into? Any case studies of cured vampirism?”

“I got some files from Quinn, but otherwise, nothing, from any of my sources.”

“Ah, yes, the mysterious file transfer I’m sure you’ll be proud to know I did not look at.”

“Hardison!”

“You used your phone, babe. Did you expect me to not know about this? Hold on, lemme look.” Hardison opened his laptop (sitting on the dinner table, to Eliot’s chagrin, but some things even Eliot couldn’t fight) and called up the data. “Dang, Quinn’s got quite the collection here. This some kind of hobby for him? Did vampires kill his parents?”

“Something like that. I never asked. His specialty is suckers.”

“And now I feel like an asshole. Wait, what’s your specialty, El? Werewolves?”

“Retrieval.”

“Oh. Alright, this is gonna take me a while to go through, so Parker, babe, if I send you an address would you mind taking Eliot and getting him some blood?”

She nodded. “It has been three days and 15 hours since Eliot last ate. Symptoms may be headache, confusion, fatigue, and hypoglycemia.” 

“Great!” said Eliot, with all the bountiful sarcasm the man was capable of. “I’m driving.”

“And mama, please actually pay them, okay? We get the meat for the brewpub from them and I’d rather not piss them off.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eliot's specialty is 100% aliens, let's be real.


	3. Chapter 3

After they left Hardison settled down with his soda and his gummy frogs to sort through Quinn’s files. There were hundreds, and they seemed to be organized according to some strange Quinn logic he couldn’t make sense of. He started with the most important distinction, calling all those with any mention of a cure to a separate folder to go through himself. Maybe forty of the files were handwritten, though, scanned in and no good for his program to read, so he skimmed and sorted them appropriately. That done, Hardison was left with a mere handful of files mentioning a cure--and in most of these the mention was that there was no cure. Only one whispered of a few possible, highly dangerous and untested solutions, and mentioned a vaccine that was apparently moderately effective. 

Which, well, was interesting. Vampires were supposed to be magic, right? And you don’t vaccinate against magic, you ward against it. Alec wasn’t dumb; he knew the benefits of some salt around the windowsills and a horseshoe above the door. Vaccines meant this was science, and something far more in his wheelhouse than trying to figure out some kind of crazy arcane ritual with toad’s skin and eye of bat or whatever grossness people did arcane rituals with. Vaccines, though, vaccines meant a virus, or maybe a bacteria, which meant a bunch of proteins and nucleic acids, and that he could hack. 

He texted Parker, asking her and Eliot to pick up a few things while they were out, and ordered a few of the more specialty items so he could set up shop as a garage molecular pathologist. Never mind the fact his lab would be in an apartment and not an actual garage. 

 

Parker tossed a brown paper bag at Hardison as she walked through the door. He managed to catch it, even, though there was some fumbling. 

“Here. You found something, then?” she said. 

“Found something? Oh yeah, I found something. Turns out vampirism ain’t magic after all. See, I wrote a script to call out all the files containing some varia--”

“Cut to the chase, Hardison,” Eliot growled. 

Hardison shrugged. “It’s some kind of virus or bacteria or something. Maybe a prion, even. But biological, for damn sure, and be thankful for that. Hell of a lot easier to hack a protein than to hack a magic whammy.” 

“What now?” asked Parker. 

“Now’s the fun part. Come’ere, Eliot,” he said, rummaging through the bag and pulling out a syringe. “I need a blood sample.”

“You know how to use that thing?”

“I know the...theory, yes.”

“Yeah, sure, the theory’s gonna help you so much. Gimme that!” Eliot grabbed the syringe and drew his blood before handing it back to Hardison and walking over to the cabinet with their expertly stocked first-aid kit--expertly stocked because it was stocked by Eliot--and cleaned the puncture before bandaging it. “It’s a wonder you managed before I came along,” Eliot muttered. 

“What was that, El? Complimenting my first-aid cupboard?”

“Damnit, Hardison!”

Sometimes it was just too easy. Hardison smirked as he transferred Eliot’s blood into vials. 

“Gloves, Hardison!”

“What?”

“Proper lab procedure involves wearing gloves while handling bodily fluids to prevent transmission of disease,” said Parker. “Unless you also want to be a vampire?”

Eliot handed him a pair of latex gloves. “Your lab technique is shit.”

“And how the hell do you know?”

Eliot grinned and raised his eyebrows. “Classified,” he said, drifting out of the room.

“Oh, come on, El, you don’t even work for the government no more!” Hardison yelled after him.

 

No progress, that day, though Hardison knew better than to expect as much. He’d gotten a list of Eliot’s symptoms and managed to separate the blood components, at least--any idiot could use a centrifuge--but not much progress had been made identifying proteins. It was possible (likely) his jerry-rigged out of tupperware and spare parts Western blot set-up wasn’t actually working. Hardison prided himself on his tinkering, but some things couldn’t be faked with a half hour, duct tape, and a song. 

Eliot and Parker were hard at work--Eliot reading through Quinn’s files, and Parker watching every vampire flick ever made. There was a tally on the whiteboard of what matched between flicks and files, only that had gotten too complicated with discrepancies between different flicks and devolved into a mess of categories and an analysis of the presentation of vampires in media over time. Probably useless, but maybe not. And better for Parker to feel busy and useful than for her to be without some way to help the job. At this point they all felt like they were grasping at straws. 

“Eliot, babe?” said Hardison

Eliot looked up. 

“I-I need help with this. I mean, I have a friend, sort of, who works on this kind of thing, and she knows way more than I do but also has actual proper equipment for all these tests so if you’re okay with it I’d like to get her help with all this.”

“You trust her?”

“Oh, yeah, of course. She’s honest,” said Hardison. 

“Fine. I don’t want her alone with any data, though.”

“Cool, I’ll make the call. Might actually make some progress tomorrow.”

 

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?” asked Hardison. 

“I said I was, didn’t I?” said Eliot. 

An ID badge fell out of the vent above them, and Eliot caught it neatly. “Thanks, Parker.”

“Let’s go steal a grad student!”

“That’s not...you don’t…” Eliot sighed and gave up. “Right, let’s go steal a grad student.”

 

Abby was a Ph.D. student in the physiology labs of a nearby university, but with her PI on a research trip, there were only a few undergrads to make explanations to, and really, nobody ever explained anything to undergrads anyway. So all Leverage had to do was get past the key-card access to the lab hallway; hardly a challenge. Hardison could have just texted Abby to let them in, but better to seem legitimate and get her into less trouble. Besides, it was more fun this way. Their official cover was as service representatives for the lab equipment, and if the undergrads were confused Eliot just crossed his arms and they scuttled away. 

“Alec! It’s good to see you again. Even if it’s under less than ideal circumstances. From what you sent me, the problem seems fascinating. I mean, to make a discovery like this. You will publish, won’t you?”

“Ah...probably not,” said Hardison, with a sidelong glance at Eliot. “Maybe if our results are significant enough.”

“But how could they not be? For there to be a scientific basis for human va--”

Hardison coughed, with a look at the undergrads.

“--viruses of this nature. It’s truly a remarkable find!”  
“Yeah, remarkable,” growled Eliot. “Can we get to work, now?”

“Of course. Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but you said you devolved--”  
What followed was a conversation of such tedious science-babble that Eliot had serious trouble keeping his eyes open. The fluorescent lights hurt his eyes, anyway. He put his hood up, not caring that he looked like an asshole. He felt like one, anyway. An undergrad peered at him across the lab, and he scowled at her. 

“Hardison, is there actually a reason for me to be here?”

“Uh...I thought you wanted to meet Abby, see what the situation was. Suss things out, you know?”

“Yeah, and she’s just as--delightful--as you said. I’m going to go see if I can track down some more...viruses,” he said, with a glance at the undergrad. 

“Cool, just keep your comm in, okay, babe?”

“Uhuh.” He looked at Abby. “Don’t steal my blood.”

She laughed awkwardly. “I’m no thief, Mr. Spencer.”

 

Eliot stalked out of the laboratory. “Hey, Parker,” he said. “Want to go hunting?”

 

Somewhere amid all of Hardison’s other work he’d managed to sort out who in the Portland area was most likely to also be a vampire. Largely based on crude stereotypes and access to a blood source, it was rough, but at least a start. With everyone at work for the day, Eliot and Parker headed to check home-addresses and see if there was any telling evidence--blood in the fridge or a coffin in the bedroom would do it. He didn’t expect to find much of anything. Suckers weren’t traditionally stupid--at least, the ones who survived. 

Eliot parked Lucille down the block from the first address and handed Parker a stake. 

“Really?” 

“If your taser doesn’t work.”

She sniffed it suspiciously. “Smells like garlic.”

He shrugged. “Simmered it overnight in garlic water.” 

“So that’s what your rash is from.”

“I don’t want you getting turned. Just take the stake, alright?”

“Finish your blood.”

“Seriously, Parker?”

“Finish your blood and I’ll take the stake.”

He growled, then slammed the remainder of his travel mug, wiping red off his lip. “Happy?”

“Yep! Let’s go.”

 

The rest of the day was busy for everyone, and if no breakthroughs were made they all felt that one would come soon--even Eliot was less pessimistic than he had been. Spirits were high as they drove home. Parker nearly bounced up the stairs to their flat, until Eliot abruptly stopped her outside their door. 

“Someone’s been here. Still here. Hardison?”

“On it,” he said, calling up the security feed. “Funny, I didn’t get an alert...oh, it’s Quinn. How the hell did Quinn get past my security?”

“Keep to the side,” said Eliot, pushing Parker and Hardison around the corner. He then flung the door open, staying pressed to the wall. Nothing happened. 

“What, don’t you trust me, Spencer?”

“More concerned about you not trusting me.”

“Yes, I see your little vampire problem is a bit more...personal than you led me to believe.”

“You could say that.”

“Anyway, I finished up with my last job, figured I’d come lend you my expert assistance. Looks like you won’t be needing it, though.”

“Let’s hope not.”

“Eliot said that if we had driven him off he would have let you stake him.”

Eliot winced. “He didn’t need to know that, Parker.”

“Well,” said Quinn. “If Eliot needed me to stake him I would. Isn’t that what friends are for?”

“We’re not friends, Quinn.”

Quinn ignored him. “I ordered takeout. Thai. Should be here any minute. Expect poor Spencer here’s been a bit green about the gills cooking, and my cooking’s even worse than Hardison’s. 

Eliot laughed. Hardison looked offended. “Please, I am a master of molecular gastronomy!”

“Yeah,” said Eliot, “and if I wanted to eat air, you’d be the first person I’d call.”

“So you’re a vampire hunter?” said Parker. 

“I suppose you could call it that. Mostly I’m a hitter, but I do get called in for specialty work on occasion. It’s really just a hobby.”

“Also, how the hell did you get past my security system?”

Quinn smirked. The doorbell rang, and he went to answer it, bringing back bags full of food.

“You get this from the place down the road?” asked Eliot. 

“Yeah, why?”

“Nothing,” he muttered. 

Quinn rolled his eyes. “Alright, Spencer, what is their crime against the culinary arts? You know you won’t be happy ‘til you tell us.”

Eliot scowled, but even Quinn’s teasing couldn’t stop him from sharing his opinion on something as important as food. “The sauce on their Pad Thai is too vinegary, disrupting the balance of flavors, and they use subpar noodles.”

“Interesting, Spencer. Anything else?”

“They make a good Pad See Ew,” said Parker. 

Everyone looked at her. “What? I can learn food too!”

 

Dinner finished slowly, everyone unwilling to stop eating but too full to eat much more (except for Eliot, who was staring glumly at his glass of blood), and turned more conversational now that hunger had been sated. 

“So Eliot,” said Quinn, “The real question is, how the hell did a vampire get the drop on you?”

“That’s the real question?” said Hardison. “‘Cause my real question was more along the lines of the fact that vampires fucking exist and how come nobody fucking told me!”

“He’s still bitter,” said Parker.

“Damn right I am!”

Eliot shrugged. “Didn’t expect her to be there, and she bit me before I had time to react. Looked like she was starving, desperate. She got a stake through the chest for it.”

Hardison started. “Uh, Eliot, babe, how did she bite you?”

“With her fangs.”

“Uhuh, and you don’t have fangs yet?” 

“Yeah...what’s your point?”

“How did I miss this? It’s so obvious…here, come ‘ere.”

Hardison made to grab at Eliot’s hair but Eliot yanked his head back. 

“Hey, what the hell man? What are you doing?”

“It has to be in the DNA, Eliot! Of course it’s not a bacteria, has to be a virus doing some kind of crazy shit with the DNA, how else are you gonna get fangs? It must alter your entire genetic code, but if we get your DNA sequenced then we can see what sections have been altered, figure out how to treat the symptoms…”

“Sure, but won’t you need Eliot’s original genetic code for that?” said Quinn. 

“I mean, not necessarily, but that’s not a problem anyway, I had him and Parker sequenced years ago.”

“I’m sorry, you did what?” said Eliot. 

“I-I mean, we can use hair, from your hairbrush…”

“What the hell, Hardison, you can’t just do that shit without asking!”

Parker frowned. “Maybe I didn’t want to be sequenced. Maybe I wanted to live believing I was secretly an alien, and you took that away from me.”

“You’re right; it was wrong. I just wanted to make sure if I ever needed to grow organs for you, I could. I still should have asked.”

“Thank you,” said Parker. “So, is Eliot gonna grow fangs?”

“Presumably,” said Quinn. “Though I’ll admit I don’t know much about baby vampires.”

“Call me a baby again and I’ll barbeque your head,” Eliot growled. 

“Juvenile vampires? Oh, I know...nascent vampires.”

This time Eliot just rolled his eyes. 

“What’s the fun of life if I can’t show off my well-developed vocabulary?”

“Enough,” said Eliot. “How long will gene sequencing take, Hardison?”

“Well, first time I just sent it to a lab, took a couple of weeks. But if Abby   
gets me access to a machine we could do it in a couple of days. ‘Course it’ll still take some time to analyze.”

“Here’s Plan V,” said Parker. “Hardison, you work with Abby   
and figure out what’s going on, medically. The rest of us are going vampire hunting and getting some answers.”

“Plan V for vampires?” asked Quinn.

“No. V for vacuum.”

“‘Cause they both suck?”

Parker laughed, then frowned. “No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note as we get into the more science-y portion of this fic: This is sci-fi. It's designed to be science stretched just a little too far. I've done quite a bit of research making this ~plausible~, but it's a story about vampires. If you see something wrong, chances are I already know it. 
> 
> With the exception of that, I'd love to know what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's one scene in this which may be triggering or difficult for some readers; if you're concerned, please see the content warning in the notes at the end.

Lucille pulled up outside an abandoned warehouse. The windows were boarded, scraggly weeds grew out of cracks in the pavement, and graffiti covered the walls.

“Vampires or the mob,” said Eliot.

“A thousand on vamps.”

“Which mob?” asked Parker. “No betting with money, Quinn. That’s the rule.”

“Just suck all the fun out of it…” 

She narrowed her eyes at him before continuing. “Whoever wins gets to choose the movie tonight.”

“Fine, fine. I’m still betting on it being vamps, though.”

Eliot nodded. “I got a feeling.”

“It could just be empty,” said Parker. 

“A place like this?” said Quinn. “That would violate some rule of the universe.”

“We’ve already been to a few abandoned ones. Why should this be any different?” 

“That your bet, then?”

“Yes.”

“Enough,” said Eliot. “Let’s go. Everyone have their weapons close?”

Parker and Quinn rolled their eyes. 

“You act like we’re not professionals, Spencer.”

“I got bit.”

“Whatever. Shall we?”

“Parker, you stay...Parker? Damnit, where’d you go?”

“Air duct,” she said over the comm. “Nice roomy one, too. My compliments to the builder.” 

“Parker, we-I thought we agreed you’d stay close.”

“It’s not like there’s vampires in the ventilation shafts.”

Quinn laughed. “She’s got a point.”

“You’re not helping, Quinn.” Eliot threw up his hands. “Fine, crawl through the damn ducts if you want.”

He kicked in the door, and they entered. 

 

The hitters stood looking into a huge room. Light streamed in from the open door, and snuck in from the boarded windows, but the room was still dark, the far wall only vaguely discernible. Quinn clicked on a flashlight and Eliot blinked in pain. 

“Damnit, Quinn, really?” he growled. 

“Despite my many talents, I’m not actually able to see in the dark, Spencer.”

“Maybe you should learn.”

“What, just magically learn to see in the fucking dark?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said!”

“Hey!” hissed Parker across the comm. “There’s something here.”

“Where are you?” asked Eliot. 

“Above the next room over. There’s people here. They might be dead though. They kind of look dead.”

“Stay where you are, okay? I’m coming to check it out.”

Eliot started running across to the door on the other side of the room, Quinn behind him. 

“Wait, no, not dead. One of them just moved. The other one might still be dead.”

The door splintered before Eliot, who paused in the threshold, glowering for effect. 

The not-dead figure started awake. “Geez, can’t a girl get a nap in peace?”

“Identify yourself.”

“I’m sorry, who the fuck are you? This is my abandoned warehouse, man.”

“Really?” said Quinn, casually strolling in behind Eliot, “I didn’t realize there was a lease out on the place. I’ll have to inquire, it seems like an ideal location to base my shady criminal dealings.”

“See, now you’re pissing me off.” The woman grinned, revealing sharp fangs. “Good thing I’m feeling hungry.”

Eliot smirked. Quinn laughed, slow and easy. 

“Oh, honey, you think you’re going to scare us away with those, much less actually get a snack?”

“I can take you.”

“Uhuh. See, El here is the best goddamn hitter in the game, and I happen to hold the world record for most single-handed sucker stakings. I suggest you stop posturing and start talking.”

“Behind you, Quinn!” came Parker’s voice across the comm. He turned, drew his stake out of its holster like some kind of Western gunslinger, twirled it once, and neatly flipped the vamp who had been charging him onto the floor, stake at his chest. The woman gasped. 

Eliot looked at the man on the floor, unimpressed. “Seriously? You thought that would work? How have you two survived this long? Charging an opponent, that’s a rookie mistake. Answer our questions and if I like you enough I might even show you how not to get thrown before you get a damn punch in.”

The two looked at each other. “Fine.”

Quinn backed away from the man. 

“Great!” Parker dropped from the ceiling. “On a scale of one to ten, how  
would you rate your communication level with the vampire underworld?”

“Who are you?” 

“Our mastermind, of course,” said Quinn. 

Eliot looked at him, eyebrow raised, the question clear. Quinn just  
shrugged his shoulders. 

“Uh...a four?” said the man. 

Parker sniffed. “Well, that’s not very helpful, but it’s a start. Now--”

“I think before we move on, there’s a rather pertinent question--”

“Yeah, who the hell is that?” asked Eliot, looking at the dead body curled  
on the stained mattress. “Did you--did you seriously leave your kill lying around in your lair?” He shook his head, disgusted. “Fucking amateur hour.” 

“No! No, we didn’t, I promise, he--he was here when we got here.”

“Try again,” Eliot growled. “You’ve clearly been squatting here for a couple days, judging by the dust tracked up, and the body hasn’t even started to attract flies yet. Dead a couple hours, at most. Probably less.”

“And what if we did kill him?” said the woman. “What’re you gonna do about it?”

“You might want to lose the attitude,” said Quinn, “I’ve got plenty of stakes to go around.”

“If you did kill him, we would make you answer our questions, Eliot and Quinn would subdue you, and we’d leave you to be found in a couple hours thanks to an anonymous tip to the police station.” Parker shrugged. “Either that or just kill you ourselves. Quinn’s pretty twitchy about the whole letting suckers live thing anyway, and it would lower the chance of any civilians being infected.” She grinned. “Besides, I’ve never seen a staking before!”

“He was our friend!” said the man. “He was sick, terminal. So we tried to change him, make him like us. But it didn’t work. He got feverish, and then he died.”

Parker nodded, satisfied. “He’s telling the truth.”

“The virus affects people differently, then. Guess you got lucky, Spencer.”

“Yeah. Lucky.” Eliot looked pained, almost wistful, then shook it off,  
snapping into his usual glower and changing the subject. “So how have you two been feeding yourselves, then, huh? You seem real fresh to the whole business.”

“There’s always people around, in the city,” the woman said. “Easy enough to lure someone lonely away from a club. They don’t remember, after, if you slipped something into their glass. A woman wakes up in an alley, and vampirism isn’t generally the first assumption. Disguise the bite marks as something else, and who would guess?”

Parker started shaking. Eliot placed a hand gently on her shoulder and looked at Quinn. They still had questions, but Parker needed to get out as soon as possible. 

Quinn clapped his hands together. “Well, I think that’s enough for today. Don’t go far. I’ll be back tomorrow, and if you’re not here I will take great pleasure in hunting you down and driving stakes through your hearts. And for god’s sake, lose the damn body.”

 

They guided Parker back through the warehouse and into Lucille, Quinn taking the wheel while Parker and Eliot sat in back. Parker curled up on herself, clearly lost in her own mind. Eliot carefully held her in his arms--loose, so she wouldn’t feel trapped--and sang to her, softly. 

Soon enough she shook her head, like she was clearing out the dust of it, and became aware of him again, relaxing into his arms. 

“I’m alright,” she whispered. 

“You sure, darling?”

“Yeah. We need to fix it, though. Not just you. All of it.”

“We will, Parker. We will.” 

 

Eliot entered the lab to find Hardison bent over his computer, frowning at the data. 

“No luck?” said Eliot. 

Hardison jumped. “Oh, hey, El. Nah, well, the sequencing won’t be done for another 13 hours. Just running some other tests in the meantime, try and come up with a little more concrete information. How bout the rest of y’all? Find anyone interesting?”

Eliot nodded. “Yeah. Coupl’a greenhorns and their dead friend who apparently didn’t take so well to the virus. They shook up Parker pretty bad, though. They’d been roofieing clubbers to feed on, and, well, you know.”

Hardison’s eyes creased. “She okay?”

“Still a little shaken. You about done here?”

“Just give me a minute to grab my stuff.”

 

They returned to the apartment, exhausted, to try whatever new takeout Quinn had rustled up, watch Tombstone (Quinn and Eliot’s prize for winning the bet), and get some sleep. 

None of them slept well. Parker roused in the middle of the night to find Eliot resolutely pretending to be asleep, though she knew he wasn’t. His breathing pattern altered slightly when he slept, and it was a very distinctive pattern. Hardison was gone from the bed; she crept into the living room to find him sprawled on the couch with his face glowing blue from the laptop. Quinn had simply disappeared altogether. She padded up to Hardison, careful to make a little noise as she went, and leaned over to kiss him before perching on the back of the couch. 

He smiled at her. “Hey, mama.”

She sat there for a while, watching him work, not responding. It was okay though. Hardison had learned by now that sometimes talking was too much for Parker. 

When the anxiety started to creep in, she fled to the roof and the cool night air, gasping it in and pacing restlessly, counting steps to calm her mind. 

At least she knew what was wrong now. And Eliot was eating, too. Or drinking, anyway. Even if she had to glare at him sometimes to make sure he finished his glass. It was going to be okay. They would fix things. They would fix everything. 

It was, after all, what Leverage did best. 

 

Quinn’s voice came across the comm. “Yep, they took off. No surprise there. Left the body, too, the fuckers.”

“Come back to the van,” said Parker. “We’ll tip the police off about the body.”

“Callin’ it in,” said Eliot. 

“So what’s next, fearless leader?”

“Uh, hullo officer, uh, so I was lookin’ for a place to sleep and I, uh, found a body. Warehouse off’a Jefferson an’ Whitson. Real dead. Flies an’ everything, uhuh. You better get down here an’ sort it out.” Eliot hung up, pulled out the SIM card, and snapped it before tossing it onto the pavement. “We good?”

Quinn swung onto the driver’s seat. “I’m always good.”

“Next stop, the 7-11 on Broadway,” commanded Parker. 

“What?”

She shrugged. “I want a slushie.”

 

They stood leaning against Lucille in the parking lot of the 7-11, Parker slurping happily on her slushie, Quinn eating from a bag of candy, and Eliot glaring at the building like it was a crime against humanity. 

“I have to say,” said Quinn, “I like Parker’s plans much better than Nate’s. What’s next, a trip to the zoo?”

Parker narrowed her eyes at him. “No. Now we find the victims of the vampires. They were on foot, so we look for incidents involving nightclubs within a three mile radius, focusing within the first mile.”

Eliot nodded. “I’ll call Hardison, have him walk me through it.”

Quinn scoffed. “Please, Spencer, we do that and we’ll be sitting here for days. Give me five minutes and we’ll be good to go.”

“When the hell did you learn to hack?”

“It’s not hacking, it’s making use of specialized search methods to get the most relevant results.”

Eliot raised his eyebrows. 

Quinn shrugged. “I dated a librarian. Honestly, Spencer, how did you do anything before you had these two along?”

“...I had my ways.”

“Yeah, and beating the shit out of every bouncer from here to the river to get information might work, but it’s also slow as molasses in January.”

“Enough,” said Parker. “Quinn, go sort that out. And you,” she turned to Eliot, “finish your blood.”

 

Quinn might have taken a little more than five minutes, but better than disturbing Hardison and delaying progress on how to fix Eliot. And Eliot might be grumpier than usual, but given the circumstances Parker felt it was acceptable. If scowling made him feel better about things, so be it. Besides, scowling Eliot was endearing in a way Parker was careful to never let him know about. Scowling Eliot was normal Eliot, not fake-Eliot pretending to be okay, and it calmed her anxiety to see the pretending-to-be-annoyed crease between his brows when Quinn spoke, or when she poked him to make him finish his blood. 

Parker and Eliot pulled FBI badges from the stash in Lucille and headed to the front door of the small, rundown house where the first likely victim lived. 

“You gonna be okay with this, darling?”

“Yeah,” said Parker. “It’s easier when I know, beforehand.” She knocked on the door, three firm raps. Moments later, the door opened a crack, chain still fastened. 

“Hello?”

“Hello, Ms. Tyler?” Eliot spoke in his most reassuring voice. “We’re with the FBI, just have a few follow-up questions for you.”

The woman sighed, before closing the door and reopening it to let them in. 

“I’m Agent Hagen,” said Parker. ‘This is Agent Stone.”

“I thought the questioning was done. And the FBI? Why is the FBI involved? I just want to move on with my life.”

“I promise we won’t take long at all, ma’am. 

She sighed again. “What do you need to know?”

 

There had been a brief period of time when, as a kid, Hardison wanted to be a doctor. Helping people solve their problems, specialized knowledge of complex systems, it was all very much the sort of thing he was drawn to. The whole idea was quickly shunted aside when his sister had scraped her knee rollerblading and he’d fainted from the sight of blood. And then he found the internet, of course, and the whole thing was forgotten. 

So really, the whole job was fulfilling some kind of childhood dream for him. Or at least, if he thought about it that way, it made the largely monotonous work somewhat more bearable. He’d read a lot of scientific papers in the past few days, figuring out what the hell he was doing. And then even more scientific papers to understand the ones he’d been reading in the first place. It wasn’t that it was beyond his ability, certainly. More that trying to learn an entire undergrad degree and master’s course of study within two days was something of a pain in the ass. 

He ought to be used to it by now, really. After all the stuff Nate had asked him to learn, on the wing, without prior knowledge and the entire con dependent on it, the frantic scramble to be an expert on shit he had no reason to know was familiar. Good thing he was already a bit of chemistry nerd, anyway. Made things simpler. 

Now, at least, they had the DNA sequencing back, and Hardison was able to work on something that really felt like progress. Actually, at the moment, he was waiting for his program to spit out the altered sections of Eliot’s DNA from a comparison between the samples, and ignoring the fact that it would probably be another ten minutes before the program had finished. He could practically smell the discovery waiting to happen. 

Hardison took a swig of his orange soda and smiled.

 

Eliot smiled his most charming country smile. “Excuse me, ma’am, can I use your bathroom?”

“Of course,” said Ms. Tyler, all graciousness. “Down the hall to the left.”

As Parker continued the questioning, Eliot walked to the bathroom, closed the door, and pulled a small plastic bag and latex gloves from his pocket, with which he carefully collected unwinding hair from the woman’s brush for analysis of the presence of the virus. A thought occurred to him, and he paused. 

“How do we know this hair is from after she was sucker food, and not before?” he asked over the comm. 

“It’s been two weeks now, Spencer. Statistically some of it has to be. Unless vampirism also stops your hair from falling out. I shudder to think of the mane you’d have if that were the case.”

“Alright.” Eliot pocketed the bag of hair and gloves and headed back down the hall. 

“Thank you for your time, Ms. Tyler,” said Parker. “If you think of anything please don’t hesitate to give us a call. If anything comes up on our end we’ll be in touch.”

The woman smiled politely. “I doubt you’ll find anything the police haven’t.”

 

Eliot always said “a watched pot never boils” when Hardison was antsy waiting for his programs to finish. It was a very Eliot thing to say; after the first time he’d growled it Parker insisted on boiling a pot of water and staring at it to see if it was true. She won, of course. After that Eliot amended the phrase, saying “a watched pot never boils, unless Parker’s watching it”. 

Hardison smiled fondly, thinking of his people; when he finally returned to the present, his program had finished. He started, sitting up and eagerly looking at the results. About twenty DNA fragments had come up as altered, for a whole variety of proteins. Some of them made sudden obvious sense, with Eliot’s symptoms, though many of the altered sections had no connection Hardison could figure. 

“Uh, hey, Abby, we’ve got something.”

Abby walked around the lab counter from where she had been working on her own actual thesis research and flopped in the chair next to Hardison before sitting up and taking a closer look. 

“Oh, huh. That’s weird that this segment is affected.”

“Right? And look at these! It’s no wonder El can’t eat, it completely alters the chemistry of his GI tract. Probably nearly killed off his gut biome.”

“You’re right. And look at this fragment; with that alteration you’d get a kink in the beta sheet, end up with--I’d have to fold it to be sure, but I think you’d get--it’s producing its own antibiotic. Oh, wow, I’ve never seen anything like this before! The virus is literally protecting its host against other pathogens which might impact its lifecycle!”

“Do me a favor, and let’s not refer to El as a host again, ‘cause it’s giving me the heebie-jeebies,” said Hardison.

“If you prefer, though it’s the technical term. You know, this enzyme in combination with the internal chemistry changes would be more than enough to completely destroy the gut biome. Which would explain the traditional vampiric need for blood as well, as a source of pre-digested nutrients. This is amazing! I mean, it’s the find of a generation. Nobel-prize worthy, even, if you could defend it. Just the antibiotic synthesis alone, and we haven’t even sourced the other symptoms!”

“We’re not interested in a Nobel prize, Abby. We just want El happy.”

“Well, of course you want him happy, but let’s not pretend you’d pass up  
a Nobel! You’ve always been searching for plaudits, Alec. Imagine changing the whole world!”

“Yeah, maybe you’re right, little chem-nerd Alec did dream of that kinda  
thing. But I’ve moved on. I change worlds on the day-to-day anymore, and I don’t need anything for it other than the feeling of doing good and Parker and Eliot there with me. I’ve grown up, Abby. Found my purpose. And public applause ain’t it, not anymore.” He chuckled. “You don’t see many hackers in front of a crowd.”

She smiled. “You’re right. It’s been a long time, Alec. You aren’t who I used to know.” She sighed. “I still wish I could tell my colleagues about this. The principle, the science is remarkable.”

They stood in silence a moment, pondering the data.

“Shit, man!” said Hardison, “What about probiotics?”

“What?”

“If El’s bacteria have been killed, we can just fix him up some new ones, CRISPR ‘em up, do a little gene alterations and rustle up something that ain’t gonna lyse as soon as it hits his system. That’d do it, yeah?”

“It should, if you can hack it. Reboot the system, so to speak.” She grinned.

“Hey, it’s the Age of the Geek, baby!” He started dancing a little, as he was wont to do when his brilliance overwhelmed him. 

The undergrad stared at him from across the lab. “Standard lab safety rules discourage dancing.”

“Yeah, well, I’m above the rules. Mmhm, that’s right, I make the rules follow me!”

She rolled her eyes and turned back to her titration. 

“And now if you’ll excuse me, Abbs,” Hardison said, “I have to go make a call.”

 

Lucille had barely pulled away from Ms. Tyler’s house when Hardison’s voice squealed over the comms.

“Guess who’s the best goddamn hacker and genius for hire there is?”

“You’re for hire?” said Parker. “Who’s hiring?”

Eliot laughed. “She’s got a point, man.”

“That’s not--that’s--alright, look, I think I know how to fix Eliot.”

“Thank the Lord,” said Quinn. “I was getting tired of Spencer’s mournful stare every time I tried to eat a chip.”

“Just because you’re driving, Quinn, don’t mean that I can’t hurt you,” growled Eliot. 

“Great, Hardison. How do we fix him?” said Parker, neatly deflecting the imminent scuffle. 

“It’s not an immediate thing, prolly take me a week or two to put together an’ I’ll skip the science babble ‘cause I know how y’all feel about that. Basically, I’mma doctor up some fancy bacteria that should help El get back to digesting stuff, good as new.”

“And then we’ll fix it,” said Parker.

“Yeah, babe, that’s the idea, fix El up real good.”

“Not just Eliot,” she said firmly. “We’re fixing everyone. Everyone as wants to be fixed.”

“That may not be as many as you hope, darling,” said Eliot. 

“I don’t care. They need to know their options, know they have better choices than drugging girls. I bet Eliot’s not the only one who thinks losing food is a heavy burden to bear..”

“She’s right, as usual, our mastermind,” said Quinn. “Mexican good with everyone for dinner? Too late.” He swung Lucille wildly into the parking lot of a local restaurant. “Any special requests, or should I just get a heap of anything that looks good?”

“Make sure to get the guac,” said Eliot. 

“Right, anything else? Going, going…fuck it, you get what you get.” Quinn winked at Eliot, turned off his earbud, and hopped out of the van. 

 

“So Ms. Tyler,” said Hardison through a mouthful of burrito. “Vamp or not?”

“Dunno,” said Quinn. “Aren’t you supposed to be running the tests?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m looking for some conjecture, here. Did she seem vampy? Any hint of fangs? Coffins stuffed in the closet? Blood in the fridge?”

Eliot spoke, flatly. “She’s not a sucker.”

“C’mon, that’s no fun! How do you know?”

“Doesn’t smell like it.”

“You sayin’ you can ID a vamp by smell now? Wait, wait, lemme guess...it’s a very distinctive smell.”

“Damnit, Hardison!”

“Am I wrong?”

Eliot narrowed his eyes at him. 

“So, this smell thing,” said Quinn. “This a new phenomenon? ‘Cause it seems like it could come pretty useful in the Great City-wide Sucker Hunt.”

“Yeah, it’s--new. Leastways, I just figured it out.”

“Well, next time we’re walking down the street and you smell sucker, point him out so I can jump him.”

“She should be a vampire, though,” said Parker. 

“Yeah, babe?”

“Eliot got bit, and he became a vampire. She also got bit, so she should be a vampire. And it’s been long enough for it to develop.”

“It doesn’t work out though, if everyone who got bit became a vamp, the whole damn world’d be vampires. It’s a virus, right? A disease. Maybe she’s immune or something.”

“Maybe. How are you testing the virus, Alec?”

“Well, for her I’m gonna have to run the DNA and check to see if the affected sections match Eliot’s. Blood sample’d be quicker, though.”

“I want you to test me. Quinn and you, too. Viruses can have carriers, right? Maybe she is immune, but she could be carrying it and not know.”

“So I could have been a sucker this whole time and not even known?” said Quinn. 

“I mean, you’d be a carrier, not an actual vampire, but yeah,” said Hardison.

“I got bit once,” he said, slowly. “Long time ago. I was much greener, then, and scared for months I’d turn, become what I hated. Never happened, though. I figured I just got lucky, or that the circumstances weren’t right--you know, it needed some kind of wild ritual or something. Maybe not.” He laughed. “I wonder how many people are carrying this with them and don’t even know it. Like the goddamn herpes of supernatural afflictions.”

“Yeah, well, this virus’ days are numbered, because I’m gonna figure out a vaccine and a cure and then it’ll be over, hasta la vista baby, no more vampires.”

“You can’t cure it, Hardison,” said Eliot. “What are you gonna do, re-edit my DNA? I don’t think so. Even if you could, I’m not lettin’ you mess around like that. Maybe we can address the symptoms. But that ain’t exactly a cure.”

Hardison sobered. “No, you’re right, El.”

“And I want the vaccine to be your first priority, right?”

Hardison opened his mouth to protest, but Eliot cut him off before he could speak. “I’m fine, alright? You can still keep working on that probiotic nonsense an’ all, but a vaccine is more important. Get you three tested, make sure you’re not already infected, or carriers, or whatever, and then if you’re not, we get you vaccinated and keep you safe.” The unspoken ‘from me’ hung over the end of the sentence. 

Parker nodded. “If that’s what you need.”

“Thank you,” said Eliot, subsiding back into his chair. 

“Hey, Spencer?” asked Quinn.

Eliot eyed him suspiciously. “What?”

“Finish your blood.”

Eliot growled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: There's a scene in which it is referenced characters are drugged by vampires as prey and allowed to believe they were sexually assaulted.  
> ~~~~~~~~~~~  
> This was meant to be two chapters but they loved each other too much and became one...
> 
> I wasn't sure how best to handle the content warning on this so if you have a suggestion for how to do it better please let me know!


	5. Ch. 5

Their days continued easily in pattern; Hardison working in the lab, mad-sciencing, and the others heading out across the city in search of vampires. At day’s end, exhausted, they met up back at the flat to eat whatever food Quinn had brought and unwind with a lazy movie night. 

Progress was steady now, in bits and chunks; they were more certain of themselves and that, with time, they would find what they sought. 

 

Hardison ran the blood tests. To everyone’s surprise, he came up positive as a carrier for the virus, while Parker--and more significantly, Quinn--were uninfected.

“Huh,” said Hardison. “How on earth did I get suckered?”

“Bad lab technique,” said Eliot. 

It was Hardison’s turn to scowl, though the attempt only made Parker collapse laughing. 

 

The crew’s vampire hunting technique had gained considerable elegance since their last encounter. Eliot positioned himself in a public, heavily peopled area, and waited. When he smelled sucker, he figured out who it was and told Quinn and Parker over the comm, stuck a tracker on their person, and the team then followed the sucker to their lair--or more frequently, to their totally normal apartment. 

From there, it was easy to either break in while the vampire was gone and search the place, or invent a persona and excuse to talk to them. Sometimes they did both. Quinn got plenty of practice refining his grift after a couple of stories fell apart, and soon he fit into the team as smoothly as the original Leverage consulting--which is not to say that there weren’t squabbles aplenty, just that the job always trumped them in the end. 

 

As Hardison predicted, they were able to test the first round of probiotics a week after his first revelation.

The crew sat down to eat, Eliot grimacing at his coffee mug full of red, when Hardison tossed a bottle of pills at Eliot.

“Hey, man, round one ready to go.”

“Yeah, and how’s that vaccine coming?”

“Almost ready for testing on our resident guinea pig.”

Parker grinned. 

“Shouldn’t you test it on mice or something first?”

“Yes, and I am. Just take the damn pill, Eliot. Might be able to eat some real food tomorrow.”

Eliot scowled, and took the damn pill. 

 

Parker was vaccinated the next day. She made Eliot administer it--Hardison was too squeamish, and she was wary of Abby--and grimaced the whole time. She was not good with needles, didn’t like them and never had.

Eliot watched her anxiously the whole day, but nothing happened. She quickly tired of his lurking. 

“I’m fine, Eliot. If I start feeling vampire-y, you’ll be the first to know.” She shrugged. “Either that or I’ll go crazy with bloodlust, in which case you have permission to subdue me.”

 

The first round of probiotics didn’t work so well as the vaccine. They’d gotten curry from one of Eliot’s absolute favorite restaurants, but he took a few bites, turned greenish, and ran to the toilet. Hardison followed. 

“Shit man, I’m sorry about this,” he said, gently holding back Eliot’s hair. 

“It’s alright, Hardison.”

“Yeah, well, it still sucks. 

Eliot laughed. “That it does.”

“You alright now, babe?”

Eliot considered for a moment. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Alright, cool, cool. Now, in the interest of science: were there any changes you notices? Any difference in sensation?”

“Really, man? Really?”

 

It was the improved efficacy of their vampire hunting that lead to their breakthrough--even if the breakthrough found them, rather than the other way around. 

Quinn had been following on foot one of the suckers they’d identified, Parker and Eliot further behind in Lucille, when the mark disappeared. 

That was odd enough in itself. Quinn was a good tracker, even in the city. The situation became very odd indeed when the mark stepped out behind Quinn, clapped a hand over his mouth, and dragged him into an alley. 

Regrettably for the sucker, the odds were not so incredibly in his favor to hold this scenario for long, and very quickly the vamp had his face shoved against the brick and an arm twisted halfway up his back.

“Now, I realize this may be difficult for you to grasp,” said Quinn, conversationally. “But you being such a big man doesn’t mean shit to me. So if you agree not to be a fucking idiot about it, I can let you go and we can have the conversation we’re about to have in a more comfortable manner. Or not. It’s up to you.”

“Yes!” gasped the man.

“Okay,” said Quinn, stepping away. “Now, what did you have to say?”

“Bo wants you to back off.”

“I see. Bo wants us to back off. Well, Parker, what do you think?”

“Parker? Who’s--”

“Not talking to you.”

Parker’s voice came over the comm. “Did you slip him a tracker? Threaten him a little, let him lead us back to this Bo.”

“I see,” said Quinn. “Yes, I agree wholly. So, Mr. Whoever-you-are, you may tell Bo that we do not intend to back down, and are in fact mightily displeased with this pathetic, clumsy attempt to frighten us. We expected at least a second rate thug, and to learn we only merit a barely third rate has hurt our feelings. And know this: if you come after us a second time, you aren’t going to be leaving in one piece.”

With that, he strolled out of the alley and casually jumped into the back of Lucille. 

“Well, what do you think? Did I strike the right level of threatening?”

“Gotta be honest, man, not your best work,” said Eliot. 

Quinn sighed woefully. “I’m out of practice.”

“He’s moving!” said Parker. “Eliot, you drive. Keep well back. I don’t want him seeing us.”

“On it.” 

 

They followed the man to what looked to be a fairly innocuous (and hideous) office building on the fringe of the city. There were no signs on the exterior, and mirrored glass hid the inside from prying eyes. 

“Hmm,” said Parker. “Let’s get some surveillance set up on the door, and pay attention to the tracker. Then dinner, and we can start hunting down some blueprints.”

 

The blueprints were not easy to find. Couldn’t be found at all, actually, even after a dusty trip to the city offices. 

“They’re not leaving any loose ends,” said Eliot. “I don’t like it.”

“Please, like Leverage hasn’t handled worse. I seem to recall you handling one Damien Moreau quite elegantly.” said Quinn. 

“You telling me you like the idea of walking into this blind? No telling how many are in there, how well they’re armed, possible escape routes, nothing. It’d be a cold run, and hope to make it out alive.”

“Yeah, how about you don’t do that,” said Hardison. 

“We can use infrared to get an idea of how many,” said Parker. “Take a rig, any window’s an exit once you smash it open.”

“Not exactly subtle,” said Quinn. 

“What do you think about weaponized light?” said Hardison. “Eliot, you’re hypersensitive now, right? I could rig up an ultra-bright flash, probably incapacitate everyone long enough for you to get away.”

“Yeah, and if it doesn’t work?”

“That’s what the taser’s for,” said Parker, happily. (She was always happy when thinking about her growing collection of tasers). “It’s doable, with a week to prep. And if we’re going to distribute any treatments, we need access better than stalking these people down one by one.”

“And if Bo ain’t so amenable to the idea?”

“We handle it.”

“So, we intend to walk into a lair of an unspecified number of vampires, with an untested weapon prototype, no solid exit plan, and the hope that this Bo might let us distribute medicine to the suckers whose condition he’s taking advantage of to exploit? Sounds great!”

Parker grinned. “But you’ll do it.”

Eliot sighed. “And more the fool I am for it.”

 

The next week was incredibly busy, even by Leverage Consulting’s typical hectic end of con standards. They all had huge amounts of work to accomplish before Parker deemed them ready to take on Bo and the lair; Hardison had to finish the ‘flash-saber’ as he was calling it (even Hardison at his busiest couldn’t resist adding a Star Wars flair), not to mention work on fixing Eliot--it wouldn’t do to walk into Bo’s lair without anything to bargain with, and a dose of probiotic miracle would serve nicely. Quinn, Parker, and Eliot were kept busy, too, working out strategies and gathering whatever information they could on Bo and the mysterious, hideous building. They kept shifts, keeping an eye on the building at all hours to see who went in and out, which meant that everyone was overtired and cranky. Eliot got growlier, Quinn snarkier, and Parker’s face just grew drawn as she faced the problem before her. 

 

It was about 3 am when Quinn came to relieve Parker of her shift. He expected her to run off immediately, but she lingered, even as he checked the camera feeds, assured himself that the automatic alerts were set up, and settled down to read (Dracula: He read it once for research’s sake, and it had grudgingly become one of his favorites. Given the circumstances, he felt a re-read was in order. And it kept him awake.). He ignored her until it became obvious that she wasn’t going to leave, then set down his book. 

“Well?”

“Why vampires?”

“Do we need to have this conversation?”

“Yes,” she said firmly. “You called me your mastermind, twice.”

“Please,” Quinn protested. “I was just saying it for the con, keeping up appearances. They don’t need to know I’m only here between jobs.”

“You’ve gotten three calls from potential employers in the last week, all of which you turned down.”

“How…?” He sighed. “Hardison, of course.”

“Do you want to be a part of Leverage?”

“Uh-uh. One conversation at a time.”

“Fine. Why vampires?”

He paused, and sighed again. “I was a kid. Saw my friend get bit, and I ran. They found him, later, dead from the blood loss. Said he cut himself in an artery and just bled out. I didn’t say anything, you know? Even as a kid you know what an adult is likely to believe, and to keep quiet about the rest. So I started studying, and learning to fight, and somewhere along the line I ended up in my peculiar line of work.” He looked at her. “We good now?”

“Hmm,” she said, and was quiet for a moment. “If you want a part with Leverage, Quinn, you can have one.”

He waved a hand airily. “You don’t need another hitter. I’m happy to help with this job, provide what knowledge I can. Once I see it wrapped up I’ll be out of your way.”

“How did you get past Hardison’s security on the flat?”

He grinned, slowly. “Man has to have his secrets.”

“Fine. I can trust you,” she said, like she was bestowing a gift (and Quinn knew she was). “You wouldn’t have to be based here, you know. We’ve been meaning to get Leverage International set up for a while. If you want part of it, you just have to ask.”

“I’ll consider it.”

“Good.” She opened the door to leave, then stopped. “I’m glad you’re helping on this one.”

“Thanks, mastermind.” 

She smiled. “Have fun being sleep deprived!”

“Oh, I plan on it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting close to the end--one big scene and then the epilogue left. This fic has eaten so much of my brain-space the past five months, I am so ready to have it done and finished, for better or worse.


	6. Chapter 6

Finally Parker deemed them ready for the confrontation.

They walked through the front doors with the sun high in the sky and glinting strangely through the orange-tinted windows. Parker wore what Hardison called her ‘evil queen’ outfit, all sleek and black with sharp corners and a stand-up collar, a black briefcase clasped in one hand. She strode past the receptionist’s complaints into the main hallway, Quinn and Eliot behind her. They were only half-way down the hall when vampires started appearing before them. Parker paused only long enough to taser those directly in her path, leaving her hitters to deal with the rest. 

At the end of the hall was a door with ‘Stoker Consolidated’ printed on a shiny brass plate. A tarnished gargoyle door knocker hung directly below the sign, incongruous amid the sterile decor. Parker stood there a moment, waiting for Quinn and Eliot to catch up. When the sound of fighting stopped and gave way to only the groans of the wounded, she raised her hand, lifted the knocker, and knocked. 

The door was opened almost immediately by a man (vampire) wearing a blood-red suit. 

“We have come to speak to Bo,” said Parker, and maybe it was the absolute authority in her voice, or the twenty-some bodies sprawled behind them (or maybe it was only that they had been expected), but he opened the door and ushered them in. 

“Please, have a seat,” he said. “Bo will be out in a moment.”

Parker sat in one of the black leather chairs like it was a throne, posture erect, Quinn and Eliot placing themselves at her sides as the dumb muscle they intended Bo to think of them. 

 

They waited perhaps a minute before she emerged; black stilettos, a perfectly tailored white suit, and a perfect blood-red smile. For all that, she looked young, too young to be someone who had control over a city-wide underground empire. Parker knew, though, that looks were deceiving. Maybe she was as young as she looked, in which case her dominion was all the more impressive. Maybe not, and either way, better not to do the enemy the favor of underestimating her. 

“So,” she said, seating herself in the chair opposite Parker. “You’re the one who has been getting in my way these past weeks. ”

Parker smiled a grim, mastermind smile. “I believe I have. Parker, of Leverage Consulting.”

“Pleasure to make the acquaintance. I’m Bo, of course. You’ve presented me with quite the dilemma. My people trust me because I make them feel safe. I care for them, protect them. When they’re followed home from work, when their apartments are broken into...well. You can imagine they no longer feel safe.”

“Yes. Our methods have been unfortunate; however, we needed to find someone with more--reach--than the man on the street, and answers were not forthcoming. We believe you have that reach.”

“Really? So this is a business proposition, now?”

“What would you say if I told you that one of my men has developed a treatment for one of the more unfortunate side-effects of your affliction?”

“I’d be interested, of course, as a manner of curiosity, though I think you’ll find my people are quite happy as they are.”

“Of course.” She beckoned at Eliot, who stepped forward. “You will verify he is like you, yes? He informs me it’s a matter of smell, though personally I can’t tell the difference.

“Are you fond of Italian food, Bo? Oh, excuse me--were you? Eliot’s always been a fan.” She opened her briefcase, taking out a small cutting board, knife, half a loaf of French bread, a kitchen torch, a spoon, and a small jar containing bruschetta, setting the first items on her lap and handing the others to Quinn to hold. As she talked, she prepared the bruschetta, first slicing the bread and toasting it with the torch, then loading bruschetta on each slice and handing them to Eliot who ate them, one by one. “You see, I have an employee who’s rather clever in the lab, and he’s worked out a way to remedy that awkward little side-effect. How long has it been since you’ve eaten real food, Bo? Do you dream about it, sometimes?”

“That’s very impressive.”

“Yes. It is. So, here’s my proposition. We have the making of the drug, but distribution, of course, is a different matter, and an aspect I believe you are well equipped to handle. Purchase the drug from us, distribute it to your people however you see fit. I imagine you’d stand to make quite the profit.” Parker rose. “No need, of course, for an immediate decision. My card, and as a sign of good faith, a sample set of the drug. See for yourself the effect.” With that she turned, sweeping out of the room and back down the hallway, Quinn and Eliot following close behind. 

Back outside the building, in the comparative safety of Lucille, she collapsed, sinking onto the floor. “Why is grifting so much work.”

“We got her, though,” said Eliot. 

“Yep.” Parker smiled. “Hook, line, and sinker.” 

 

“So, guys?” came Hardison’s voice over the comm. “I realize y’all just got done dealing with big scary over there, but we have some, uh, issues as need attending to back at the lab. 

“What is it, Hardison?”

“Well, uh, it looks like Abby’s aiming to publish what we’ve been working on. She’s got an abstract written up and emails to a couple colleagues all ready to send out, with the DNA data, too. ”

“Damnit, Hardison! I told you to keep watch on her! You said she was honest!”

“Well, she was when I knew her! Guess the thought of a Nobel’s a bit much for anyone.”

“Do you know where she is?” asked Parker. 

“Uh, yeah, she’s grabbing ice from the autoclave room.”

“Freeze her computer, and her phone. Anything she has data on or can communicate with.”

Hardison typed furiously. “Okay, and...done.”

“Make sure she doesn’t go anywhere. We’re coming to you.” Parker jumped into the driver’s seat, Eliot and Quinn giving each other alarmed looks and quickly buckling their seat belts. 

“See, this is why I like locks,” Parker muttered, weaving Lucille haphazardly through traffic, “And safes. Locks don’t betray you. Glenn-Rieders don’t have their own motivations, no. Soon as we can, we’re taking a vacation to go and steal something nice.”

Needless to say, Lucille made it to the university in record time. 

 

“Quinn, you don’t have to come with us,” said Eliot. “Go home, get some sleep. This ain’t your problem.”

“Nah,” he shrugged. “I’ve never had the opportunity to scowl at undergrads before, and why pass up that chance?”

 

When they reached the lab, Hardison was pacing across the floor, Abby seated at her computer, and both of them clearly stressed. He turned as the door opened. 

“You’re here, thank goodness.”

“You!” said Abby, bursting out of her chair, “Did you tell him to lock my computer? To snoop around on it? Such a blatant violation of trust I cannot believe Alec would stoop to on his own!”

“Honey, he’s a hacker,” snorted Quinn. “Snooping is his stock and trade.”

“Violation of trust, oh, yeah, sure, it seems like I’m the one with the problem with that, considering that you were getting ready to do what we had expressly asked you not to! But no, I’m the untrustworthy one, for doing a little routine check…”

“Yes,” said Parker, “I asked him to keep an eye on you. We’re criminals, after all. The question is,” she continued, “how exactly we deal with the problem you have presented us.”

Eliot cracked his knuckles. Hardison shot him a look, and he gave an elaborately innocent look.

“What? After all the punching I did earlier, my hands are sore.”

Hardison rolled his eyes. “We’re not going to hurt you, Abbs. We don’t hurt people.”

“Well that’s a blatant denial of how I contribute,” said Quinn. 

“We don’t hurt good people,” Hardison clarified. “Anyway, you we’d be more likely to blackmail.”

“Tends to have greater long term effectiveness!” said Quinn cheerily. 

“You all are insane!” said Abby.

“Pretty much,” said Hardison. “You have to be to get as good as we are.”

“Speak for yourself,” said Eliot. 

“Look, have you idiots even considered your plan of action on this? How are you planning on vaccinating the general population if you aren’t willing to tell them that the vaccination exists? Not to mention it’s a hell of a lot easier to get vaccines to people once they’re, you know, FDA approved.”

“Yeah, and that could take years!”

“Look, Alec, you’re brilliant, but you’re not a virologist! You may be fine taking the risk, but there’s a reason these safety features are in place! How would you feel if somebody got hurt because you were overeager? And what about the probiotics? What, are you just going to set up a black market for those? You of all people should know that’s just going to encourage the kind of crime you claim to want to prevent. And who’s going to be producing the quantities you’ll need, huh? Goodness knows you don’t have the time. Look, read my article. I don’t mention you at all, though I can’t imagine why you think I would, when that’s not how science works!”

“I know you’re not accustomed to working inside the system,” she continued, “but it has its advantages. Publish this article and I guarantee you will have scientists across the world jumping on it, working up their own cures and treatments and solutions far better than you could alone, because there are scores of people out there for whom this is their life’s work. So, yeah, you could keep this to yourself because you’re afraid of the system, or you could realize that you’ve done what you can and step aside and let the actual professionals take care of it from here.”

She stopped to breathe, wild-eyed. 

“We read everything before it gets sent out,” said Eliot. 

Abby blinked. “Yeah! Yes, of course. Whatever you need.”

“We read everything, and that means abstracts, the actual paper, quick emails--anything. Any changes we need made are made. No sending DNA data to colleagues.”

“Just the altered segments? I can’t write this without those.”

Eliot scowled. “Fine.”

“You’re sure, Eliot?” asked Parker. 

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure. She’s right on this. It’s too big for us, and we have other fish to fry. We step back on this, let the world right it for us, and if the world fucks it up, well, we’ll be here.”

Hardison nodded. “If you’re good with it, El. Are you sure you have time for this, though, Abbs? I mean, you have your own research, and an advisor to make explanations to…”

Abby laughed, half from amusement and half from sheer relief. “My research wasn’t going anywhere far anytime soon; it can wait a while. And my advisor will be just as excited about this as I am. Are you sure, though, that you’re okay not getting credit for this at all? This is your work. I know you can whip up fake identities, surely you could…?”

“Nah,” he said. “I told you; I already have everything I need.”

They smiled at each other with the understanding of people who have known each other for a very long time. 

“Well,” said Quinn. “Hate to break the moment, but this is going to make dealing with Bo hella awkward.”

Parker smiled. “I expect she’ll find the police raid significantly more so.”

He looked at her, bemused. 

“While we were busy distracting Bo and her henchpeople, Hardison planted some files, made some incriminating transfers of funds.” She shrugged. “Plus there was the cocaine we gave her.”

A malicious smile broke across Quinn’s face. 

Hardison glanced at his phone. “If we leave now, we can be there right in time for the gloat.”

“I’m driving,” growled Eliot.

“Shotgun!” yelled Parker, bolting out of the lab. 

“No, uhuh, oh hell no,” said Hardison, grabbing his laptop and scrambling out the door. “You always call shotgun, woman, I’m tired of sitting in the back!”

Quinn waved a jaunty goodbye to Abby, then strolled out the door after them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just the epilogue left and then we're done!


	7. Epilogue

By everyone’s enthusiastic consensus, the next day was one of rest. Eliot, kept out of his kitchen too long by first disease and then sheer lack of time, went a little cook-crazy, making vast amounts of meat and bread and pastries and other delectables. Hardison spent much of the day playing with his ‘orc-friends’, and Quinn wandered aimlessly, first reading Dracula, then watching some movie and doing repair-work on an old holster, and eventually destroying Hardison in a completely friendly game of Mario Kart. Parker jumped between all of them, observing, getting in the way, and occasionally (literally) bouncing off the walls. 

 

Parker cornered Quinn again while Hardison and Eliot were in the brewpub, arguing about Hardison’s latest concoctions. 

“You think Eliot’s attractive, don’t you?” she asked. 

“Mm,” said Quinn. “I suppose I do.”

“You can have sex with him, if he wants.”

Quinn laughed. “He know you’re making that offer, sweetheart? Does Hardison?”

She shrugged. “We know that Eliot needs to have space outside of the three of us sometimes, keep from feeling caught. And we know that we’re the most to him.”

“Most of what?”

“Of everything.”

“Well,” said Quinn, “while I appreciate the sentiment, I prefer to keep my professional relationships nice and tidy and professional. No sense in making things messy if I’m going to keep working with y’all.”

She grinned. “You’ve decided, then?”

“On a preliminary, trial basis, of course.”

“Of course. Any thoughts as to location?”

“I’ve always liked Brazil.”

“Perfect! I’ll have Hardison get you set up in Rio. He’ll be excited to have our first Leverage International Field Office up and running, he’s only been talking about it for ages.”

“I guess I’m officially under your employ then, huh, mastermind?”

They grinned. 

 

Quinn left after dinner, just strolled off whistling into the night. 

“You sent him the plane ticket, Hardison?”

“Uhuh, first class to Rio, baby.”

“I’m surprised you got him along,” said Eliot. “Quinn’s always been a wanderer.”

Parker shrugged. “I’m very persuasive.”

“That you are, mama, that you are.”

“Besides, I told him he could have sex with you if you wanted.”

Eliot’s head crashed into his hands. “Really, Parker?”

“He said he preferred to keep things professional.”

Hardison laughed. “Who needs a dating app when you’ve got Parker?”

“I’m perfectly capable of picking up people on my own!”

“I’m sure you are, babe, I’m sure you are,” said Hardison soothingly. 

“All you have to do is feed ‘em!” said Parker. 

Eliot laughed. “Alright, I get the hint!” He vanished into the kitchen, returning with several loaded plates. 

“Extra frosting?” asked Parker.

Eliot set a bowl in front of her, “Of course.” He set the other plates them. “Now, don’t go an’ expect this all the time,” he warned. “This is strictly celebratory sugar.”

“I think we need to find more things to celebrate,” said Hardison. “Not often we can get you to make the Best Chocolate Cake Ever.”

“Wouldn’t be special if I made it all the time.” 

Parker moaned, her face already covered in frosting, “No, no, it would.”

Eliot neatly cut a piece with his fork and tasted it, frowning. “Not perfect yet. But closer.”

“Not perfect,” Hardison grumbled. “I’ll give you not perfect. You make this cake perfect and they’ll have to outlaw it. All the druggies’ll be wanting cake instead of crack.”

Parker moaned again. “It’s all gone,” she said mournfully. 

“Seriously, Parker? I’ve only taken one bite,” said Eliot. 

“I can’t help it.”

“Mmph, can’t blame her,” said Hardison through a mouthful of cake, “We don’t all have the self-control you do, Eliot.”

“Just be glad Quinn left already and you don’t have to share,” said Eliot. 

Parker set her plate on the coffee table and flopped back onto the couch. “More for breakfast?” She gave Eliot puppy-dog eyes. 

“No,” said Eliot. “You’d make yourself sick. I made blueberry buckle, though, we can have that. Though the crust’ll be better if we let it sit longer.”

“Oh man, appreciate it while it lasts, babe,” said Hardison. “Pretty soon he’ll be back to grumbling at us about vegetables.”

Eliot grinned, and pulled his partners close to him in a hug. “Damn right I will.”

Parker snuggled up against Eliot’s side, simultaneously making a pass for Hardison’s cake. He yanked it away from her, shoveling it into his mouth. 

“Ea’ my damn cake? ‘ell no, woman!” he said, his mouth stuffed. 

“Chew with your mouth closed!” said Eliot. 

Hardison swallowed heavily and paused for breath. “She tried to steal my damn cake! How’d you like it if she took your cake?”

“Eliot’s a vampire,” said Parker, “He gets all the cake he wants.”

“Shoot, I’m vampire-y. Vampire-ish. Do I get some more cake?”

Parker narrowed her eyes at him. 

“All right, I take that as a no, moving on. How ‘bout a movie?”

Eliot nodded. “How about, what’s the one with the,”--he cleared his throat-- “‘Multipass!’”.

“You wanna watch the Fifth Element?” asked Hardison. “Alright, yeah, man! We’ll make a geek out of you yet!”

“Don’t push it, Hardison.”

“I’ll get the blankets!” said Parker. 

She bounded off to do so, and Hardison queued up the movie while Eliot sat, a small contented smile on his face, peaceful at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're done! This is the longest story I've ever completed; it feels strange to be finally finished with 'my goddamn never-ending vampire fic' as I've been calling it. Thanks everyone for the comments and kudos! I'm glad you've enjoyed.

**Author's Note:**

> Lord, I said I would write this and it's finally nearly done, and four times as long as the original. Vampires are complicated, especially scientifically plausible ones. Next time I'm writing straight fantasy and spending less of my life researching physiology.


End file.
